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.