I can feel my heart stop beating, I can feel the ending taking over, the world erasing my existence, my tired skin falling from the dead muscle, the separation of what was to what is, a journey of resurrection, of a life I never earned to right to call my own and a death saturated in the pleasure of another, I was never a saint, I lived with my sins, I deserved better than I gave, yet I lived as I was and died because of it, fabricate my existence into a memory of unintentional mistakes lost in the placebo of a tomorrow that will never come
Silicone Memories Saved Onto The Internet For The World To Disect – Wrapped In Words
Posted by Matthew Tonks on
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
