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.