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.