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.