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.