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.