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.