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.