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.