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.