Forget that the night is real, for all you need to know is that this darkness is fulfilling its wanting need, its purpose, suffocating each fighting breath with its hold so tight, a symphony of stars, playing the songs I like, a wetness thick and cold, my body, my me, slipping through the mirror of insipidness into a word that failed to be a reflection of what was, but a world reflecting the darkness of all things into reality, energy disbursing across the endless vastness of reality, birthing the two headed beast of another mirror, birthing the worlds within worlds, not reflecting the lightness, but a world reflecting the darkness of all things into reality, release, fornicate, see the mirror, see who you are without the hindrance of who you was told to be, be, see, fornicate, release, be free to be the me you was always meant to be!
A Pictured Image Across An Endless Void Of Mirrors Reflecting – Wrapped In Words
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
