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.