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.