Heads or Tails

Do not be afraid to think like me. An ugly sweater is clearly not a statement of taste, but there is a reason why it staves off trash bins and yard sales. You don't have to pretend in it. Nothing to adjust with a stretch or pull. Its four buttons have negotiated a peace treaty with your midnight snacking. And with a color scheme that resembles a vomited up Picasso, complementary items are a moot point. What cufflinks go with kaleidoscope pipe bomb? Every time you sneak your head through with one arm worming through the right sleeve, your game piece is ordered back five paces. That is far enough to question the adrenaline rush over a manufactured fret. Recite the admonitions of current and past titans. Speak it to the audience of origami swans I crafted from your statistical sheets. One of us must budge in this war of inches. Society is much too heavy. I just want you. Tug the rope as hard as you want, I'm not coming over your side. My knees are bent with feet planted like begonias. The closer you get to the line, the more my words make sense. Will you callose your hands over pride? There is no secret compound with matching uniforms. All I offer is an outstretched hand and a neural path way less traveled.