My first half is bogus. My second half is waste. Nevertheless, I ensure cleanliness.

I fill new walls and papers Until your work is done. You rack your brain for answers, Then draw me when there’s none.

Wars are won by my employ, you need me for games to enjoy. I have great potential and am kind of essential. A bankers delight I am capable of flight. Nothing is free from me. I might weigh little, but the guilty are crushed under my weight.

A time traveler in a plastic shell, spinning memories caught in a magnetic spell, rewinds the past with a gentle whir, capturing frames without a blur.

I hang by the neck beside a throne, wear coats of white in tidy rows. I split with sighs along my bones, serve, then vanish where water goes. What am I?