Darkness falls with the setting sun but this ain’t no love song, this is a mess of entrails and cum, show the toad (sinners all) fate reveals its shallow call, hollow and dripping with the diseased (useless) seed of man, it screams as its dying breath is drawn a million times over (a billion and more x 4) while the hand of fate keeps stroking faster, draining him of his life-giving (bastard thinks he is the maker of his own kin) essence, removing the segregation from the pool, resetting (realigning) the board to its default mode, removing the sophomore sinner from the food chain, removing his genes from the pool!
Published by 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, who dreams 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. View all posts by Matthew Tonks