Lying           
           In   My   Room,          
  Arms Flopped Over The Edge Of The Bed. 
      Something  Poking My  Left Hand, 
                  Something     Slimy, 
       Slithering  Around The Fingers, 
          Up   The    Arm.          
 Is  It  Drug-Fueled  Apathy?          
          I  Don'T   Move   The   Arm. 
                                 
 Whatever  It Is That'S Tasting Me,    
 It   Moves   Further   Up,            
 Reaches    The    Armpit.             
 I  Turn   My  Head  Toward  It.       
            Looks    Like    Seagrass. 
         It'S  Kinda   Cute.        
                                 
    Once It'S  Up  My Neck  And On  My 
 Face,    I    Bite    It.             
      The Texture Is  Like That  Of  A 
 Juicy                          Grape, 
     And  The Squish Tastes Like Sweet 
                     Cucumber.     
    It'S Very Good.    And I     
 Suck   More   Of    It   In.          
             Chew    It.            
    The Seagrass Doesn'T Seem To Mind. 
                                 
     Apathy  Gone,   I  Sit   Up.     
      The Tendrils Are Stuck Under    
    My  Shirt,   Entering  By The Arm 
 And  Exiting  Through The  Collar.     
   This Makes  It Hard For  Me  To Push 
 More   Of   It   In   My   Mouth.      
   I Make To Remove  The Shirt, But The 
 Seagrass Finally Protests When I  Try To 
 Move     My    Left     Arm.           
      So   -  Eating  It  Is  Ok,     
       Moving  It  Is  Not.