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.