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.