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.