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.