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.