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.