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.