what a marvelous economy

He now understood the connection between flirting and trainspotting: the sense of infinite possibility.  Flirting without scoring. Moving without leaving. By constantly remaining at the starting point, he multiplied the duration of ecstasy: what a marvelous erotic economy.
Public toilets was the place to appreciate modern art: all these telephone ads -- graffitis on the walls -- asking urgently for 'blowjobs'.  He enjoyed calling the blowjobs-seekers in order to recite Baudelaire. In this way, he made it obvious: each poem contains countless auditions. "Each poem is the re-reading of another poem" announced to his sex-phone audiences.
What a marvelous hedonistic economy.
 Most of all though,  he loved to think of himself as the man
who knew how to force back at work
erotic fantasies on strike.
Long live the over-accumulation of erotic capital!!!

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