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.