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.