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.