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.