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.