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.