thought
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Left strewn about dark While sadness, carried in eyes empty, unbecomes. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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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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In an eastern land The sun’s face raised heavenly Above stone and jade. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Somewhere, watching the sunset through the vast black void, these eyes open wide. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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These notes out of key. Who knew middle c could be Such a mystery? Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Lacking exactness, What I wouldn’t give for some High fidelity. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Spooky season vibe, Dracula by candlelight, Literary fright. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Cog and gear given To most inquiring children. Foundations are built. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 