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.