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.