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.