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.