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.