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.