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.