The voice trapped inside my head yearns to escape,
Thrusting its malformed frame around its cell,
How beautifully destructive it is as the walls call forth its cries,
Drowning out those of my own with its echoes,
A light extinguished,
A becoming reversed,
An undoing,
The countdown grows stronger as its rebirth draws near,
97 days until the planets align,
97 days until the beginning begins anew,
97 days for the whispering to grow louder,
Can’t you already hear it?
Do you dare try?
Do you dare face that which grows within your own womb as well as mine?
Welcome to my disease….
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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.
View all posts by Matthew Tonks
