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.