Bewildered at the love I gave,
knowing I got none in return, while pouring more,
anesthetic ****** at times.
Elevated at times when I discovered someone new,
oh easily I give my heart to.
The damage is when my true self melts away
and I forget.
While no love lost, no lost found
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1540847509&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince

Romantic gestures in a relentless fashion,
conscious in every moment, closing into
enlightenment, blooming to boundless
edges, like the lotus, newly found love,
from a starting point of fulfillment.
Finishing on something beyond conception.

Eyes of the horror of existence,
anxiety filled actions, driven of avoiding transgressions,
intensely discontented to what lays
in
reality, fearing of being caught up in the rhyme in it.
Rebellious only
towards the mundane & perhaps I’m wanting something I can’t have,
wishing to be immortalized in pictures,
slipping into mystery.
Everyone is telling me
to say something,
but when I speak, they smack me for being clever
while
in irony is they despise a fool.
What's the day without a little night.
Give the crack to a kid,
who cares, a war in the middle east,
rather a war on poverty,
they’ve got money for war, but can’t feed the poor,
always had enough,
seems that it’s always rough.
There’s a war conceptions, so the police can bother me.
Take the evil out of people that are developing themselves, some seem Heaven sent, jails are filled with Mystics, some want to operate in an easy way, but hey, they got to get paid. So they have everything in a ****** way. Perhaps I’m obsessed with finding myself in this uncaring world & for I’ve found in content with my own bitterness. Life can be so disappointing, passionless passages of time. Spitting straight from the heart. I can't rewind, pause or fast forward, when you’re the ****, the world’s eyes gaze upon. On the cover of the magazine, flossing with the fashion, tossing with the stars, late night, lust & lies, bright lights under the trending signs. Everything goes, through generally it does. With people's hands still out, can you really blame people for trying to get what they can?
In the event of demise, I shall die standing up.
Cause
it’s going
to
be
a
tormented & lonely death with a pocket full of soul, with no other place to go.  
I can give to those & I can take away,
it’s tiring to wake up, ****** up, pockets broken now they’re empty with bills to pay, just a body to sell to those sinners, while drinking bourbon while wishing
I didn’t have to live
so Devilish. Just a Zen abuser. But it’s like quicksand,
when you’re on it,
keeping falling, while no-one hears you calling, so you end up self-destructing.

To each rebirth I command myself to undertake,
the closer I become to being a Higher Power, further from being a Muse,
those unable to do the same, it’s alright
to
name
&
shame.
The weak is here to justify the strong,
for most will read & dismiss it as arrogant ego, rather than a self-validating poet,
living in freedom.
Let us party hard, let us party all night, the love of sacrifice is
at the base
of the shrine, profit thrives on stupidity, shown most highlighted in trends
& forefront of subcultures, delusionary revolutions,
the world changes according to the change of the individual,
too bad ignorance isn’t painful,
for
I crave original thinking,
it is too bad I have wasted so much time,
on those who cannot even pull themselves to average,
you’re none to service.
Blessed are those who can destroy false hopes, illusions, trends, validation from others, dependance, angst & insecurity.
Freedom lays in thy hands.
(Heartache, don’t let it bring my heart down,
Jezebel bow your head in shame,
I am the light of illumination,
Mystical enhance my essence is, you phony,
you fake, I’m free, while your wrapped in children’s
attention. The sun rises in the east, at the Beast’s
discretion, than sets in the west, Babylon won’t
test. I’m free again, ruff & ready, you don’t know
what you're living for. Reaching replaceable average
is your best hope. Everything at your feet, still you’re
bitter, bored & sober, so you got nothing to do.
Forgetting suicide is painless)

THYSELF
By Darcy Prince

‘Thy mind is like a tree,
easy to letting go of dead leaves’

Ponder on the mystery, paradox of facet, unknown is my life, passion and drive, not for you, wrapped up in self-made ignorance, my own soul is content and my own meaning, it is thy cosmos, everything and muse. Not for you. It bleeds hate, than in ******* session, it breeds more, just to shatter your very essence. Respect to the Devil. Divine meeting before death. Let go, you’re not dangerous in the defeat. There is no morals, ethics, laws or rules that plucked me up, confine thy character in, my own thought is mosaic, dogma and the word, I’m unflinching, without a heartbeat, without a sound I slide down. Peer and peek into your soul with a ******* vest, trigger happy and I boom.
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Perhaps I’m addicted to the darkside within my internal landscape, display in false veil of happiness, though it’s the poverty that got us trading places, now there’s nothing but hate in bitter harsh terrain, with no healing hands that guide us to Zen and a moment of peace. I don’t hang around much, this grind got me out of touch. In quiet times got me thinking of what we could of been, I ****** around and got attached to you, the only thing I did good was write poetry, because it’s the only thing that you noticing & settled on self-made false conceptions of anything else in regards to me, it brings violent threads of emotions inside my private life that those conceptions seem right to you. With no hope in the future, there's bitterness when I speak, maybe I’m too ignorant that won’t change from now until the end of time. For I pray for my soul to rest & anything to come down & take me away. I’m feeling used, still I am consumed by you, all this time is passing, it hurts my soul everytime I’m reminded of you, I hate myself for allowing my heart to be attached to yours, I hate that I want you, I’ll never be him, I see you when you’re not around, still got images of us of times when you don’t remember, anyone can break your heart, I’ve grown tired of humanity, but never of you, I have my own feelings & love, but you never made an effort to be apart, there was alarms in my life, but I continued, now everything is a ******* mix & the hate inside is taking over my entire being. Everyone I do right by, ends up doing me wrong. I have Muse, meet Deities in my life, travelled with gypsies, meditated to Zen, smoked ancient Heavenly, meet Mystics & talked philosophy, I went from ****** in homelessness to writing poetry & fiction, never finished school & made my own movies, been to Europe & went to lodge with royalty & instead all my memories are filled with you. For the only thing I can give my right hand to is yours. All I got is hate, no I don’t owe you, no I don’t know you, I lay back with this bag of magic dust, gives me the strength to deal with bizarre **** in my mind, for I have returned back to evil, just to destroy, I have grown sick & tired, stop with the thinking, Demons are my friends & have meet in this life before death. Becoming so hateful I can glare & burn you into Hell where Baphomet lives. Jealousy is love & hate, my rare breed can have you bleeding in vain, your future is in the same place as you are now, besides the despair is more intense, no love lost, no love found. Oh fate in life, don’t hurt me no more, I have given up, on the silence given to me, while I still worry, is this hell? I married to myself, devoted to myself. Open Bibles burn. Anton Lavey is my hero. Grinding pills into dust, than I volunteer at the nursing home. I wake up with the intentions to spread the Devil’s message, after all, strapped to me like a bomb, willing to live is the willingness to commit suicide,  I’ve meet him in person, even without believing, before the act of dying. You know why my hand is numb? My sister ****** me off & I didn’t ***. Put it back Sisqo, you know where it belongs, **** your love songs. Than I smacked my sister for speaking ****, she said I couldn’t write poetry, so-what she’s handicap. I’m here to save generations of babies. Because in a Biblical sense, I am a ******* witch. Judas is my virtue & forgiven me. Hey *****, I ******* hate you. I’ll **** you before killing you, than film afterwards of sloppy seconds, I know some Serbs that will finance my retirement for that tape. Next time you see an Outlaw, pay him respect or get shell-checked. I’m taking back what belongs to me, the only way you’ll see me again, is by Machiavelli. My life is mine & is too Holy for another. It is way I’m so closed up. Screams of the Musing world. Denied, cause I’m too much for you, never to think that you’re too small for me. Sell my your soul & I’ll **** in your ******* sleep.

The level is twice as deep, so it’s twice as cold, passing the heat & fire,
I got & felt, get up & feel, get up cause it’s real, got up & ****.
Some do, some don’t,
**** around & start & riot, spit up some lyrics, too late with that emergency call.
I’ve tasted martyrdom, it’s holier than ******.
A-lot people crave in their yearning, but they all stay bluffing, hollering at the moon, all alone.
You’ll be nothing but bone & ashes, with Grandma
the only one remembering your name.
Monks singing in my ear, ‘**** mystic, ******* ****’. So, if they’re at least attractive,
they’ll be sacrificed on our holy shrine.
It’s easy to be smacking fake poets, gypsies, monks, mystics & muses. My own death is at the back of my mind. My gun is loaded.
Feeling no pressure.
You’ll be next to Dante, next to Baphomet, witnessing Milton reciting, its the best place & it’s within your destiny.
Bleeding in in vain, hating is in my nature.
The ones who can transcend here & in the now can talk about, can’t stand yourself, I understand, it’s hard to come to grips with how you ****** it up & missed your boat. And that’s within life & not even forty yet.
Once upon time, you were an idol, you’re not even a rival now, it’s a crime against humanity, trust me, destroying you is that easy. Put don’t any pen for any blank paper that you write anything on, no one cares & the only reason you have anyone around is out of pity or a quick session. I get it, you’re ditty, I’m musings, you rock boys that’s borderline ****, I rock royal europeans. You’re getting smoked like rolled **** in this realm of reality, I’m not perplexed & rest in the thought it’s supposed to be, like how women ain’t meant to be like you. Terms of you, its easy to glock & aim. Sure you got some skill in the style you live, in the way you create art, you may call it yours, but I call it bitting. Don’t puff out your chest. Accept it & move on. Surrender. I made it out of addiction, instantly learnt how to transcend, you’re the same since sixteen. Unable to part from your past, we all die one day, it’s not a crime unless if they catch me, if they rush my home in the morning, Demons & Masons will storm the station in the evening.
I’ve been peeing in a cup since I meet you, your body has no value, your soul has nothing of value, thoughts spit out junk, emotions of a dying old lady who hadn’t lived. When I raise my knife, I’m going to cut some skin & if the ***** thinks I love her, the ***** don’t know me.
It’s
been
written
God
doesn’t
like
ugly.
Don’t even try eating makeup. I got your friends popping their head at my very thought.
Mean mugging don't mean nothing.
My confidence is in the loud,
your insecurities are in the public.
I’m too legit, the Mystics know the difference between me & you, me dying that’s ludicrous, no respect from me, I’m vet, if I’ve got to do some silence, its only a minor setback, I’ll be right back with Demon, Transcending Enlightenment & a six-pack.  
Your thoughts are not legit,
mystics relate to me, some are younger than buck,
pimping is easy,
no one is thinking of you as a person, so stay of the tip of my ****
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1535754370&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince