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.