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.