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.