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.