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.