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.