She transcends the meaningful loneliness, she matters in the endless nothingness, her tears give life to the emptiness, her smile spreads an eternal happiness, she says my emptiness is killing her, she says my dreams were never hers, whispered words in a silence drenched in darkness, malformed ignorance conceived through gluttony, a frontier of finality, a forever future not to become, time is now not a matter of itself, but an inevitability bathed in the essence of humanity, she transcended the meaningful loneliness, she mattered in the endless nothingness, her tears gave life to the emptiness, her smile spread an eternal happiness, she said my emptiness was killing her, she said my dream was never hers….
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