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.