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.