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.