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.