Too many chips cast along the table, and you’re going to wish that God himself strikes you down. There’s only one thing worse than God, and that’s the rapture of the people on Earth. This buckshot of shit, that people expect you to call reality and logic, is often too much for the average man. No doubt that’s why there’s a growing rate of suicides; too many people getting fed up of the same monotonous role in their life, and they wonder: ‘Why?’ Why is it that through this life we decide on our goals, and our roles, and all the little shit in between, yet at the end of the day we’re dead? Perhaps it suddenly hits all those people that shove a .357 into their gaping hole, or a noose around their neck, that they’re a tiny insignificance to this great scheme we call ‘life’. But instead of facing reality we build idealistic make-ups for our journey and we call it God, or religion. Yes, that’s right; ‘religion is the way – the only way – and God will be the saviour of us all!’ It could be that we’re just imaginations of our own thoughts, and have created this world in our own psychological subconscious. Because we can’t tell anyone’s is alive other than our brain telling us so; we may be able to scientifically prove it, but how can we say it’s so without experiencing it? There’re too many unanswered questions in this life, and it’s a constant fight between God and the Holy Atom. But seriously, fuck that. I’m consent with my life, be it real or not I enjoy the many experiences that I think I’m experiencing; drugs, sex, music, literature. _______________________________________________________________ My name is Luke Alexander Matthews, and I’m a certified cynic. I grew up in the South Wales valleys, where the air is bitter and damp, with conservative miners who would never dare vote Conservative due to that thing in the 80s. It certainly doesn’t match up to the picturesque scenes that Dylan wrote of; that’s more like the Gower, but that’s still a pile of rocks and sand with condom packets and scat layered between them. I spend most my life reading, and attempting to write. I dream of being a success, but sometimes I feel I’m just kidding myself. I’m not going to be an aspiring writer – I write like a Victorian wash-up, for fucks sake. Perhaps I’m too engrossed by my own writing, and obsessed with how it sounds to the reader: shouldn’t I be the one criticising my own work, rather than seeming to look for recognition? Yet, then again, isn’t this just one big circus of arrogance where I’m my own ringmaster? (Still too many questions!) I’m lost in my own clichéd world of an eccentric, and sometimes I hate it. I hate that I can’t be what I want to be because of my own pessimism. I hate how I seem like a twat a lot of the times. I hate people thinking I’m looking for compliments. You don’t like my writing? Then don’t humour me. I don’t like being told I’m good all the time. I love being me, and I love being a cynic of myself; it’s what makes me Luke Alexander Matthews. -L. A. Matthews
Bwouhahahahaha hmmmm my evil mind is at work - this surely means that you feel the best compliment is if I told you what a pile of crap your work is ! Ok herte goes - mawahahahahaha Take this as a compliment then, but I think your writing is shit and that you obviously just want to go down the pit and prove what a man you are. You write like an 11 year old with only one brain cell that eats Esther Ranzens arse piles! I bet that was so good for you, you chucked your muck reading it! mawahahahahaha I am emporer ming and believe you love being dissedf
I am also ming the mercilessly funny - urmm I may have that changed to relentlessly funny ! In truth I loved your writing I have read many of your posts pertaining to this writiing forum and think people only complimentr you because you are good. From what I have seen, critics like White Scorpion and Sentient and a few others are much more ruthlessly merciless than even me !
GWAHAHAHA BWAHA !!! Guess whos back ! mawahahahahaha May I suggest moving out of wales its quite a gloomy place if you ask me, always raining and cloudy and most of the women over 40 look as though the only thing to look forward to is a good funeral. May I suggest moving to barbados where the weather is at least better, or maybe move to sudan and do something useful like fighting in (or is it with ) the sudanese army ? no reason why it just occurred I should say that
