Words by Lawrence
01 / Poem
If ever who reckonds what nobody knows, one extra drop shows. Cellular vision shut eyes, a visonary state a glimpse beyond lies. Like trapped wind in the creek, a moment to replenish the essence of matter disguised as a stroke on the cheak. Covered with a silent shade of burnt lust, the dry days when my thoughts vanish into plain dust.
Published on Lawrence’s previous website.
02 / Poem · 2024
One must be a fool to believe in a fading breath; the days aren't counting on the matter, dehydrated from too much fun, rendered to the bone. Amused by grotesque portions of poison, like the petrol that fuels the obedient. The floating young men behaving like boys, selling pictures of a spreading action fearlessly, yet afraid of confronting a future grave. Because death doesn't end on a bed in most cases. May I point out my freedom, my driven hours that turn winds into sand. Desert dry, longing for a moist climate; let the condensed sweat rain as I dance.
Published with an artwork on Lawrence’s Instagram in 2024.