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.