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.