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.