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.