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.