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.