As the light slowly withers away, as does my once ample frame, I find the simple tasks an unending chore, and bothersome addition to an empty life, I want the feeling to end, I want the feeling to disappear, I want to, somewhere away from the pain would be a blessing, somewhere across a galaxy and far away, away from this skeleton of agony I have become, eyes dry and staring emptiness into the void that does not take me away, I want the felling to end, I want the feeling to disappear, I want to, I want to, I want to be a memory that makes you smile, not a cardboard cut out, not a pale shadow, not the reflection I see, not the man I have become, I want the feeling to end, I want the feeling to disappear, I want to, I want to, I want….
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