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.