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.