Passive motions hidden in grander illusions that find themselves masked in the forever of the incessant ramblings of a injured animal, stroked beyond contentment, thrust into (FORCED OUT FROM YOUR PATHETIC HOLE!) the face of forgiveness (REGRETS NOT FORGOTTEN, BUT NEITHER REMEMBERED!) see my smile, know my pleasure as you feel your pain (FEEL MY ECSTASY!) summon that which was not given and face the cry of another wisdom given, tomorrow, next week, next year, forever and a day, she’d no tears for we are (THERE IS ONLY ME NO WE!) all (I AM EVERYTHING, I AM ALL, CLOSE YOUR EYES AND KISS YOURSELF GOODBYE!)..
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