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.