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.