Liquid burns
as does smoke
and both share the same portal
both the same host
this liquid that burns
does not wash away the ash
that also burns
their host, how she croaks
and liquid burns as much
going down
as she does
coming back up
but not ash, who sticks
soundly to her host
loyal only to the tender pink flesh
of both lungs
and whiskey, she coats her masters
insides
as a freshly painted wall
And sometimes they converse
a friendship of
cotton-tasting tobacco,
and bittersweet alcohol
the best kind of pain
self inflicted
unwilling
regretful
but oh, how these twice-given agonies
go together so well
with their host, their slave
who is also their master
but never completely
for control between these three
must be separated by four
ash, whiskey, the host, and the choice