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.