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.