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.