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.