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.