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.