dear substack, i despise you

a poem

Substack’s sorry excuse of a content guideline policy

This is all you have, seriously?

No wonder your platform is degenerating.

You claim you care about free speech,

Yet all you seem to propagate is festering rage

“We want Substack to be a safe place for discussion and expression,”

But you don’t actually care about our wellbeing or safety.

If you did, I’d see your work in droves.

We both know there’s more accounts where they came from,

Their wretched holes.

“Robust discourse.” There’s an idea! Oh, how intellectual you are.

Do you consider hate speech and bigotry a valid contention?

“We work to find a reasonable balance between these two priorities.”

Your cards are dealt. I see your play.

Of course you’d give propaganda the right-of-way.

“Offending behavior includes credible threats of physical harm to people based on their race, ethnicity, national origin, religion, sex, gender identity, sexual orientation, age, disability or medical condition.”

Already, you have a bias against us. “Credible.” Are my bleeding wounds not enough proof for you? I leak crimson over your interface and you see nothing but a shrew. Am I the bad guy now? I’m simply showing out your point of view.

“We don’t allow porn or sexually exploitative content on Substack.”

Oh, but you do. And you thrive in its misery. Anger brings more mouths you can earn from. I’m not naive. I know the symptoms of a declining platform when I see one.

Your diagnosis is terminal, but you hold the cure. You keep it locked behind gambling additions, useless features, and patronizing emails. Degeneracy sells, and you’re rich in their coin.

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Art is political, and I’m simmering with rage today, so I wrote a poem.

Substack & Substack Team fix your mess—it’s not our job to clean up for you.

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