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.