What Awaits Around The Corner Of Ones Mind
Simplistic days,
darker nights,
my life seems full,
and empty,
what waits around the corner,
what lurks in the shadows of ones mind,
twisted,
distorted,
time is no friend,
you hunt,
you stalk,
you whisper,
you stand,
breathe me in,
and I’ll burn you,
from the inside..:
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Matthew Tonks
People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time and dream of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.”
So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness.
Breathe me in and I’ll burn you from the inside.
Twisted and so good! (PR)
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One of the things I find so fascinating and so all consuming about your writing is the delicious ambiguity in regards to what you within the piece represents. Is it a stalker having an inner monologue? Or perhaps döppelganger screaming at the other self in the mirror? Or perhaps whatever vice or bliss one spoils self by – perhaps a perfect shot of single malt whiskey or even freshly pulled espresso? In the end it matters not for once the journey is completed one feels invigorated beyond!
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Thank you my friend, the many avenues that one can take its mind on a wickedly walk through the night, letting your mind sing to you of visions, of places and faces, of acts and lies, what webs we weave beneath our skin, behind our eyes.
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loving your poetry, Matthew, I feel like I’m reading it, hogtied, on my tip toes.
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Haha, thank you, I’m having some fun with the style and direction I’m taking it at the moment, un-bottling demons within… haha
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