Happenstance poem 171009

The things I used to know how to do
Now seem like a scissors run through
The sea,
This sea which has something to do
With the shape of a tear
But nothing
To do with where I
Can.
I’ve tried to find and explain
To myself and the unwritten poems
But without sadness
The longing has lost its description,
Its description
Its place.
I’m left with a jealousy,
The fattest scream.
Not because of another
But because I have chosen
To swallow a pill
As slim as sure
As a world so dim.