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.