Jinx

The secret jinx wastes within our dreams
Subsisting on tapestries of thought
He eats existence from their seams
And drinks threaded hope once held taut

The fiend slips through brightly woven minds
Consuming the most vivid shades of essence
And in our pale digested fabrics we find
A roughly sewn childlike presence

So from this young cloth we must return
And witness our jinxes starve and fall
As we light the match and watch him burn
Our new forms breathe from ash and crawl