Drunk Demons by Trey Turner
Fridays have become strange
Plans made without a word
What, when, but where doesn’t matter
Cursed with knowing why
We purchase the poison
You may hide it in a game or two
Or you may mask it in fanciful cocktails
But the drink is all the same
It initially unites
And eventually divides
It has changed those who I love into demons
They resemble them, but they are not them
They have possessed them, slowly killing them
Or they have died, and the demon takes their place
It burns away the normalcy of sobriety
Cleanses the body’s doubts and fears
Releases the spirit, for all to see
Eventually, you can ask yourself
What kind of demon do you wish to be?
Trey is an eighteen-year-old Cree student from Northern Quebec. He spends his free time in bed, rolling around every so often.