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.