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.