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.