Noel Negele

Perfect Joy

One of his fondest memories
is from going to Baku in Azerbaijan,
from where, much like Paris,
he remembered little other than flashes
of wild scenes and his rapidly decreasing bank account.

In Baku he had hooked up with a beautiful tranny
who was short and had all the woman parts 
and was as it seemed much easier to pleasure.

They had taken two oxycodins each and had gone
to the zoo where emperor tamin monkeys were 
left free to roam and often steal
and one of’em had climbed on top of him, 
sat on his neck
and searched his thick hair for lice.

The sensation was incredible. Deep into his high
with the monkey massaging his skull, 
he took out a Buprenorphine film, supplied
by the tranny who at that moment 
was an absolute bouquet  of flowers,
and put it under his tongue
and as it melted there
exploding a new high
he closed his eyes
drooling
erected
and was as close to zen as souls can be.

The perfect nothingness. 
Black but blonde with light
and filled 
with the most spectacular feeling of contentment.

He had passed out after that.

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