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.