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.