Suppression
If you believe your work is good, the algorithm suppresses you.
It wants to shut you up—if only for a goddamned second.
If only//to briefly monetize something else,
because what you posted is better than good enough for the masses.And the masses—don’t give a shit either. Maybe because
it’s mind control. Maybe because
it’s Maybelline.Fuck this thing—this algorithm—that shuts good down
and bubbles up bad things.
It’s maddening.
Mad-provoking vitriol,
and, yet, here we’ve got a lovely post on noonday flowers—something,
something,
something so gorgeous and beautiful,
lovely and striking.(But hidden for no one to see).
Why can’t we all read about the flowers for once? Why can’t /—/
Why can’t we see these virtual ones? Is it because we don’t stop for them in real life?Is it because our attention spans elsewhere?
Why am I//getting .//political news that >< makes
me want
to—cringe?What is this algorithm doing to me?
Why is it putting me on the fringe?God, and would you, please, quit, algorithm.
Quit sending me voices who’ve had way too much airtime
—with their constant wailing. Quit sending me oppression.Fuck you, algorithm.
I want to see all the flowery posts.
I want to see the animals.
I want to see the pretty pictures.
I want to feel lovely—so, quit reminding me you’ve broken me.Quit the suppression—I need the strength//and liberation
to manifest,
you ungodly, (math-driven) thing.[And that’s what I say to it.
I’m sure you’ve said similarly]
—
July 16, 2024, at 8:47 a.m.
I’ll embed the original audio recording because it sounds better, save for the background noise.
