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.