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.