Waves crash and crawl along a strewn shore…
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In the land of Nóg the trees know all…
You are the lie, you are nothing more than an image, and I will consume you…
The house didn’t feel like home just yet…
Solemn be the calloused heart, for hope doesn’t arise from perfect souls…
Empty promises aren’t really empty…
Do you know the suss do ye?
Addictive wordplay, Scarce dotted tees and crossed eyes, Spelt rightly wrongly. Giuseppe Gillespie – December 2021
©2024 Giuseppe Gillespie