This is by far the strangest book I own. The content is irregular for one thing, it’s a poetry book written as a monthly diary of a man convinced he is bringing about the end of the world. But the way I got it is by far stranger. I work in a bookstore, and one evening I was shelving in the poetry section and I saw a very this book squished between two much larger on the shelf. To make sure small books don’t get lost we usually pull them off the shelf and put them on the top so I took the book out to re- shelve it. I looked on the back to make sure it was in the correct section but it didn’t have a barcode and it didn’t have any identification on the back whatsoever. I took it to the inventory computer to print a new barcode for it but the book wasent in the bookstores inventory, nor had it ever been. It was also impossible for me to try and find it on Ingram’s (the warehouse that we order all our books from) website. It wasent even a properly published book according to them. So basically we got pamphleted with an apocoliptic poetry book. My manager let me take it home with me since it didn’t belong to the bookstore. It is by far my favourite poetry I’ve ever read, (not that I’ve read a lot) it’s written beautifully and it tells a cohesive story throughout the book, I’d highly recommend it to everyone, if you can manage to get your hands on a copy.