Unreal

It’s so dark and dry under the tree,
the leaves are filling a doorway.

Wordlessly we meet,
I tress my hair into alphabets.

The sounds are made elsewhere
I am enveloped in thoughts.

There are almost no climaxes
but we can’t make one anyway.

The silence reaches height
in which it can change things.

The noise is back in a murky robe
and probes the holes in my heart.

A dream as old as sleep waits
perhaps outside of me.