A rotten sickness of the inner psyche, it’s membranes torn and twisted into a shape unknown, broken down like perfectly ground salt, betrayed by a selfless traitor who persecuted all those around you, selling a vision so sweet that you could not resist its allure, but once you were in its mouth, it closed like a trap, slowly revealing itself, slowly breaking you down, slowly filling your light with a bitterness dark and soulless, the cry of a pathetic child, the hate of a tormented beast, the face of a delusional bastard (RELEASE ME!), release your hold (RELEASE ME!), release your toy (RELEASE ME!), allow me freedom (ALLOW ME MY FREEDOM!), allow me my freedom (ALLOW ME MY FREEDOM!) allow me my PEACE!
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