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.