Alcohol is poison to a weak soul

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.