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.