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.