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.