Pretty Words

A game of telephone dawns the day,
webbed in the clasp of a chain of these dreary gals.
But it is a day like no other;
for on this day,
there is nothing

nothing

else to do.

It takes an awful lot to get a debutant to release her grip on a long-handled cigarette,
when the only cause is to dial a number with it;
and even more effort to convince ten of them to do the same.

After all, there's little time away from glaring into a corner,
the view rolling away homewards into spider-lidded sockets.

It's hard to get their hearts pumping
when their only motivation is you,

because there's a surplus of pretty words,

but a drought of your sentiment.