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.