Billions of words fly around in my head-
In one lobe and out the other.
They escape before I can trap them in ink.

They break free through my skin,
And etch themselves into my surroundings;
Every memory now bears the beginning of a poem.

So much sleep I have lost over fluttery syllables-
Trying, failing,
To catch them with my faulty letter-fly net.

The holes are too big!
And so they soar out,
leaving me with the faintest longing;

For every single one I capture,
A dozen more escape,
Destined to run free.

Maybe I'll see them again someday,
Buzzing in the distance
Always evading my grasp.

At least they'll bother with me at all,
Even if they're flighty.
Stays and runaways are better than no words at all.