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.