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.