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.