death
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Stumble upon our timeless gaze, so long as there’s eyes to see and minds to conjure…
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Lie beneath in the End. Drown out muffled echoes Of the living dead. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Make noise whilst living. You won’t get much of a chance As a bloated corpse. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Damp stone tombstones cracked, Rotted, and unreadable. All is forgotten. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Cog and gear given To most inquiring children. Foundations are built. 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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With Autumn comes death, Green turns into golden brown, Nature’s slate wiped clean. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 