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.