Once again the night descends from above with a ferocious snarl,
Thunder claps its hands together with great applause,
Separation of the head from the shoulders lies in the limp neck,
A sword wielded by a weakling casts trepidation over the fight,
But the mirror shows the hidden beast that lies beneath the flesh,
A demon of unimaginable strength pulls the strings of mankind,
Fear the future,
Run from the past,
But know this fair one as the silver falls down,
The could haves and have beens are nothing but memories and tall tales compared to the here,
and the now…
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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.
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