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.