He finished off a bottle of rum, followed by a bottle of bourbon. He felt the solitude. He felt the demons.
Listening to a demonic song, watching a worldly show; It’s past midnight. Have you ever danced “with the devil in the pale moonlight?”
Most drink some Hennessy, Jack Daniels, and all the impotent alcohol. He only drinks 100 proof or 50ABV and above.
He loses his mind and loses all the negativity with every chug from the bottle. Never ever has he dealt with such a force. It’s all new to him.
21 is three years away.
Happiness seems to be lightyears away.
A quick notion passes. “I should write a novel,” he thinks. Not to sell it or to publish it. Simply for the distraction of it. The demons need a distraction. The demons want a legacy.
Demons don’t exist in anyone’s head. Lucifer and demons may influence your mind through visual queues, but Jehovah condemned anyone but himself from entering minds. We are the root of our own night terrors.
He knows he’s his own demon. “Dog,” he calls it.
He hopes to drown it.
“If I fell in love with you, what’s to stop her from falling for you the same way I did?” He was enlightened by those words. That’s why the one woman he has now is the only one. She’s the only one who brings a smile to adorn his face. He learned from the worst to give her the best.
From midnight to dawn, he reflects on that with a heavy chest. Heavy chest, ached soul, scabbed throat. Spirits are what influence his thoughts now. He voluntarily chose to ignite his insides as they were washed down his esophagus. Now he orgasms with every unsteady step.
Now he watches as all the doubts he has fly all around him. They never touch him. The spirits make him doubtless.
Food becomes superflous. His stomach runs on empty night and day. But that’s okay… the spirits fulfill him.
The demonic song is “lettuce” by Cole Benzo.