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.