Giuseppe Gillespie
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There is a monster, Creeping up behind you now; Its name: Memory. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Hi sadness. I need Something to keep you at bay, Wishful thinking eh? Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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To smell the high grass ‘neath willow bramble and dew, Over hill ridged view. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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The taxman’s at a loss, His figures don’t match when we Pretend that we’re dead. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Wake from fever dream, A hand caresses my cheek, Death has come at last. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Blood echoes on wind, The screams and cries of nature Fallen on deaf ears. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Easel lies untouched, A skill I’ve yet to pursue. True madness awaits. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Breathing in and out, Conscience is clear and tranquil, A peace that won’t last. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Two halves together, Seam runs down diameter. An odd symmetry. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Blew through fever flu, Snort sniffling sinew stew, Pot honey on brew. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 