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.