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.