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.