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.