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.