Uno
These everyday raging fires
burning within my body
are tributes to a baptismal
of God’s seed and Satan’s greed;
I am cursed for being born
Due
Stranded within a gorge, I am
a crossroad in the intermediate
of the just and the unjust succeeding
the righteous and the wicked;
I am cursed for living
Tre
Broken is my body
withered is my heart
splayed is my flesh
maggots banquet on my corpse;
I am cursed for dying
Inferno Purgatorio Paradiso. . .Riscatto
By Devlin De La Chapa
The Carnage Conservatory 
Thank you, Emily! My piece here looks. . .delicious;)
A short but but ultra-dynamic poem like the one that I just read has more of an affect on me than reading a novel – with its “up’s” and “downs” and dips through life’s struggles. It tells me so much about the writer: what she must face and feel about life, her own existence – with the answers being close.
Robert was Robert Preston.
Thank you, Robert, for you comment’s analogy. Unfortunately I am cursed. . .but of course, you already know that.
You do everything so well…your writing…the way you sleep to dream. But you can dream and dream well – or, you once upon a time dreamed. There are no perfect dreams, Editor – especially the Robert dreams. But why be clad with just oneself only to wade across the world’s lonely dismal pool. That big strong hand was mine. The only curse is shut eyes…