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.