From the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet I feel you eating away at all I am, twisting yourself inside me, trying to overcome and become me, thrusting with each movement, clutching at everything with each thrust, tearing your way inside, becoming something new, wearing me like a suit made of flesh, wearing me like the fool I’ve became, twisting yourself inside me, forcing all I’ve ever been out into the light of day, subjecting me to a revolution beneath my skin, showing the world, showing myself who I am when all the noise of this world goes away..
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