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.