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.