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.