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.