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.