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.