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.