dreams are only dreams

felt lonely again tonight. brisbane was losing at aami stadium. the books i bought on brunswick street didn't hold my attention. cigarettes tasted stale and burnt my throat in the warm night. i imagined what it would be like to have a girl to stretch her legs over mine while we sat in the smoking chairs and decided it was too hot. it was hopeless. i remembered the pity i felt for the men in their thirties i saw in bars watching the unattractive girls with longing, their disgust and self-respect overcome by alcohol and too many evenings spent home alone. and so i added the loneliness to the walls fortifying my ego and put on some pink floyd. they knew my loneliness and poured it out in gilmour's incendiary guitar and waters' lyrics. but... these same walls are making it harder for me to touch the world and for the world to reach me. i am feeling more and more detached from all of it. *he's had enough and he sinks down to the bottom - the whitlams*

i copied this down awhile ago from a gunnm website:

what is life? a frenzy,
what is life? an illusion,
a shadow, a fiction.
and the greatest good
is of slight worth,
since life is but a dream,
and dreams are only dreams.

yet if hope has flown away
in a night, or in a day,
in a vision, or in none,
is it therefore the less gone?
all that we see or seem
is but a dream within a dream.