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.