my head, contorted, neck kinked in a confused, doglike manner
generalized under monikers of Self-Help, Eastern Philosophy and Finance.
Lamar may as well sell billboard space atop each shelving unit,
QUICK ANSWERS, FASH CASH, SNAKE OIL! CALL (800) 235-2627.
Books and their contents weigh down on the mahogany shoulders
cut down to their most utilitarian form, these once mighty giants
to support the ongoing questions eternally teased through by man.
The screams of the struggling author muffled on either side by
the tomes of whorific vampire/werewolf star-crossbred lovers
marginally better than the latest Harry Potter Hermione/Centaur fanfic,
save the author with a sixth sense for making shitloads of money.
But hey, sex sells, Rule #34, don't knock it til you try it?
Sorry but I think that one gets the gavel, cover or not.
A tweenage 25-to-life setting new precedents for unrequited love,
can we get Lamar off hold today, I'd really like some ad space!?
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