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.