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.