Aggressive, passive, like an explosion waiting to ruin itself, like a lie segmented into a shell of misconceptions anew, repeat a choice, build the serpents tail, fracture its spine, meditate my need, festering disease, feed, rescind and receive, as the self-apocalypse has no apology, as I, do not complete me…
My Apocalypse Offers No Apology – Unhinged Poem
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Twisted Roads - Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks 
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