poem on paper put through the wash

it was something about
organs playing the sound of skin
like lungs play the sound of breathing
heart the sound of blood
etc.
and of course it was my best poem yet
it was going to make me rich and famous
it was going to change the way
people imagine the purpose of skin
forever
all of the sudden
Americans
would be consistently human
instead of imagining white supremacy
in sleeping life dream
or arguing and agreeing
within the confines of
trick pseudo dialectical
***** **** *** festival
the skin is an *****
not a concept
for genocide to play with
distance is yelling
"you cannot patent blackness"
echo is yelling
"you cannot patent blackness"
nature is yelling
"you cannot patent nature"