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.