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Novocaine for the SoulThere are maps on the ceiling,Novocaine for the Soul by ~turimbar1
cottage cheese maps, that tell of lost landmasses
and childhood memories.
They had trees and villages and continents,
but now they are all noise,
Just white noise I stare at during insomnia,
trying to sleep, trying to dream,
like I used to dream and think
like the ocean eyed children.
Their mind evolving, synapses visible
in their furrowed brows,
interpreting good and bad
and chocolate ice cream.
Learning to trust in the consistency of human
fickleness, the ebbing sea-change of adults.
But everything has lost it's clarity,
I now enjoy inconclusive endings and
bitter humor, and the dulling experi
Sta.sh
