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.