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.