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.