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.