Strange Animal / Stranger Animals by Meyer Lane

Everything seems so off now…abstract…curved…concave.

It feels like I am going to fall into a large pool of Lovecraft’s cthulhu nightmares.

LSD? No…that’s not it. I wouldn’t be sitting still at a computer if so.

Absinthe? Heard about it…never had it.

No, no…I know what it is.

Writing is a strange animal.

Writers are stranger animals still.

So, not only am I an animal, but I spend most of my time with animals.

Furry little monsters swiping at your feet from under the couch.

Cute little children pretending to be children all the while stealing your sanity.

Space and time converge into a pool of everything I have ever written and read.

I am a writer.

Strange…strange animal.

by Meyer Lane

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