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.