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.