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.