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.