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.