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.