I collect these words in my pocket;
Papers folded neatly and shoved deep inside with the rest of my stash.

Thoughts that run so freely;
With minds awoken these words come spoken as I grip my pencil and write so fast.

"Catch me if you can," the muse sarcastically banters in my head;
"Don't leave these stories unattended for if you do, they will surely feel dead."

I collect these words in my pocket
And transfer them onto this screen;
So I may have some peace of mind and alas my laundry will come out clean.