I’ve imagined the worst-case scenario.
He left without notice. There was no trace of him.
There were no remains. We couldn’t track him down.
I bet he left strict instructions.
I’m not to be followed. Isn’t that asking for it?
He’s in the final stages of doubt.
What’s coming next to nothing.
There’s the satisfaction of knowing it’s fatal.
What a relief! Imagine the flow when you go.
The rise in whip-it-to-me sexuality. I want to be taken.
Her sexual fantasies centre on the rape dream.
Not rape in the sex-without-consent sense.
Obsessively being desired. Male lust out of control.
She’s the cause. That’s the fantasy. There’s her power.
Pleasure isn’t analysed, Don’t stop to consider.
Morality doesn’t matter. It’s all about letting go.
That slap across the face. The pleasure/pain frisson. 
Don’t you think a good innings?
You’re up there on the scoreboard.
Maybe a tribal elder. Too tall to tell tales.
If you’re going to be negative about it should be.
Would you like to experiment with me?
We could be ahead of time.
Don’t take me seriously. I’m a reproduction.
He updated subjects as fast as possible.
Indistinguishable from the master’s style. 
Can I like send you a sample?
Don’t be so hard on me.
I’m only deluding myself.
Where’s the grandeur in that?
Anyway, what’s your aural awareness like?
Pitiful, I’d say.
I’m building blocks for your erection.
You need my emotion.
You’d go out if I didn’t poke you.
What happens to the mind’s waste material? 
How I got off the train and thrived. An automatic biography.
We’re here to market a culture product. How to sell the punk.
In this case, a bohemian whore ahead of himself.
I’d be pleasantly surprised if you found time to fit me in.
The bourgeois will to distinction. To set himself apart.
Acquiring cultural capital for those who would be hip.