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.