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.