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.