dark
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Dead leaves spindle forth, cast down from heredity, left cracked-torn rotted. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Life’s Seldom a Ball When You’re Destined to be an Isolationist. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Raindrop carried wind shimmering through reflections of light-filled teardrops. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Angels looking in from heavenly hidey holes at flustered monkeys. Giuseppe Gillespie – September 2021
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Clouded judgement lives in the outskirts of her eyes. Looks like rain today. Giuseppe Gillespie – September 2021
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Darkness creeps upon the bark and lush greenery as I sit waiting. Giuseppe Gillespie – September 2021
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Yellow and purple are the blossoming flowers. Soon they will turn grey. Giuseppe Gillespie – September 2021
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Lamplight battles dark. An eternal tug-of-war. Blindness in the end. Giuseppe Gillespie – September 2021
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I am no stranger to the dark and maccabre.I dance with shadows. Giuseppe Gillespie – September 2021
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 