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.