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.