skin as a context for hate

my skin is my speak,

always talking where ever I go.

it is the language of how I learn

assumptions that predicate my behavior.

I could be in a herd of albinos

and have never come to know,

where perspective becomes 

the land of predicament,

where forest dwellers meet 

prairie-land migrants.

what can be said

that doesn't already speak 

by conclusions made?

what is common ground,

looks a lot like sky, 

in daily dialogue.

we have resource beyond the evidential.

mental, as method, 

is a place to start.

we have kinship 

behind and beyond circumstantial.

we are where habits' rot 

in conclusion's stance.

we make obvious 

a creed to live by,

but actually live from 

some other inward place.

we make evidential 

a positional reasoning,

as if the great causal 

can be observed.

what is so secret 

about the intimacy inside behavior,

as the feelings 

that launched a self in space.

I wanted hive mind 

but don't live that way to start.

my senses don't convert or deny.

I could be of the ever-search

or part of the prejudice of encampment.

the paint of my objections

is composed of deeper hurts.

shortcomings is my method of mixture.

I could be from a band 

of unsaid collective complaints.

I could be muddledom, 

looking for pronouncement. 

I want voice, 

but have clearly confusion to say.

my articulation can be profound mumbling. 

I hurt as a declaration of need.

my freedom is express bottled-up-ness,

as if my purpose is reduced to this.

I'll call it racism, 

and be totally unaware, in favor of.

since I don't need a personal backstory 

to have this as my pertinent stance.

I want to have the right to hurt in free reign.

get out of my blame lane or else.

I am smolder, 

but hear me roar.

I will tag you 

as the cause for my concerns.

I see you as other worldly 

against my cause.

I can't articulate well

but you can come to represent.

my only relief appears as despising you.

I have an inner warmth 

from my assent of condescension. 

I have method to my despise. 

I have an attitude of carriage,

yet I am a captive to and of my enterprise.

you can think of me 

as territorial about my presence.

I have superior relevance 

in my mind's eye.

for I abhor, detest, 

and present as distain,  

and hold an achievement of contempt.

I am my own hidden agenda 

making itself as made evident.

I have pride as proper speak.

and skin color is ever my headline script.

I am a monument of smallness dignified.

I am heavily invested 

in contempt on display.

I want my tight-ass honored

and to live my life in exactly, 

this arrogant, disdainful, patronizing way.

call me a racist,

it's a complimentary concession 

to my cause.

legalities aside,

I am of a hurtful side of self-importance. 

I am esteem deficient, 

in a self absorbed kind of way.

I can have smug as a skillset 

and self-righteous as a frame of mind.

I lick my own convoluted wounds,

with the same mouth,

that is the skin 

of my own speak . . .