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.