well, death isn't going anywhere, it's there, if you think talking about it is taboo, censoring it is normal, trying to rationalise death with thoughts of suicide is morbid, you're really on your way to a neo-stalin system of censorship... what if thinking about suicide is a coping mechanism of having to rationalise death per se, to rationalise mortality... who are these secular gods hiding behind curtains of theory?! who are they? what if thinking about suicide is thinking about death itself? where is this Stalin of capitalism?! where is he?! i need a word with him - because if i can't have the freedom of thought i have no extending freedoms to participate in life - a cog in a clogged up mechanism... but let's not get all hot and bothered and frantic... no, seriously, where's this shady Stalin who doesn't have a podium but a puppet theatre? i know, words like capitalism are grandiose, almost cryptically absurd, as is the word bureaucracy... too many people depend on it... but the french absurd philosophers were given the freedom to wonder about suicide as a way of consolidating mortality... we're not immortals... why aren't the english children given that freedom of such bewilderment, instead reduced to self-harm as a way to paradoxically alleviate the contemplation of mortality, with the thought of suicide as a coping mechanism of the ****** inescapable fact?! hide the cemeteries and i'll agree.*

a funny article in all honesty,
entitled: stressed, depressed,
lonely and anxious. is your teenager ok?
i remember when i was one,
yeah, i have a life,
a bottle of whiskey to finish,
see you 70cl under the sea
of what used to be the shoreline
or a table - you can never take a medium
too seriously, i mean, what painter
would take a blank white canvas seriously?
if he did, he wouldn't have painted on it,
but writing to get +1 thousand
hits of readership? what a weird mathematical
need of voyeurism, you see no **** no ***
no shower scene... you're just addicted to
numbers, and they're not even your savings
increasing for a place in a care home...
oh pooh pooh a tear... fragile souls of
passing on resentment... hey! i'm in the queue
why you barging in? i only have
a can of sardines and a bun to buy...
you have a full trolley of goods for
a family the size of Lichtenstein!
but i get it... europe's disneyland is switzerland,
all the death rides you can imagine,
esp. with an imperial russia banknote with
tsar nicholas ii on it, i'd get a pass on every ride!