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.