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.