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.