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.