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.