a man ina pub

A man in a pub
In the midst of the Atlantic ocean
Scratched his ass
Lit up a cigar and
Looked the TV screen
And sighed heavily
As
The water sculptured a rock
And the seagulls hung in the air
The doors of the toilet were squeaking
And the man says
After some time one begins to avoid suffering for he has been put through it all you know and mmm the cross weighs too heavy, so to speak, you know what I mean by this...I am only a man. A fucking MAN. I'm a weak bastard. And all the light and emptiness bullshits increase his old ulcers' inflammation...listen me up boy, I been seeing death and resurrection every minute of my freakin life and now I just want some peace, some unknown tranquility, beyond that crap, some ethereal hands combing my hair, maybe a small house and good food every day, and fire, and a smiling wife because all this suffering ethos has eaten up it's tail...and anyway, all these jerks down there clearly forgot why they suffer and are all the time obsessed with talking to the world, not listening to it, without even being aware of a small fact that everyone they meet and everything they experience exist only in their brains that shall become a handful of fucking intergalactic dust...gimme a ciggy now and get outta here, punk!