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.