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.