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.