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.