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.