Madness carves it’s crooked name across my life,
Touching everything I’ve ever been,
Everyone I never could be,
The lies I wished were me,
Sadness calls in the darkness while I sleep,
Promising me a place to curl up and be complete,
It promises me everything,
It promises me safety beneath my skin,
Faltering and falling beneath my own self,
A ruling hand of insanity owned by no other,
A face underneath my own that I don’t know,
A paranoia that won’t quit,
An emptiness that can’t be filled,
Another me,
Hiding,
Twisting,
Deceiving,
It promises me everything I’ve ever wanted,
It shows me the me I pretend to be,
It shows me the never was,
The never will be,
The man in the mirror who’s not me..
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
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
