Articles by Buskuv
I always wonder what exists in people's minds.
Almost everyone I see, at least repeatedly.
What complexities grind behind subtle, unconscious body language, directionless small talk and social culture? What do they think? And how much of this seeps out from that barbed, bolted fence...
Our history will be what we make of it; and if there are any historians about fifty or a hundred years from now, and there should be preserved the kinescopes for one week of all three networks, they will there find recorded in black and white and in colour, evidence of decadence, escapism, and...
There's a feeling on the tips of my fingers.
The smallest of legs on the smallest of creatures dance convoluted steps on my fingertips, sparking memories buried in my heart. These feelings are not new; they are not forgotten. Daggers of adrenaline form as chemical memories trigger responses...
There's a certain languidness to riding in a loud vehicle over a perfectly flat surface, having nothing but a mind with which to grind memories. The light from those dirty windows looked like the surface of the sun; it sure felt like it. It feels empty, like we're driving through an unreal...
"Why aren't you doing something about this? How come the police aren't being involved in this? And the answer was of course that they were gathering evidence to crack into this very secretive and dangerous cult and people had, you know, gone undercover into it and had been killed or actually...
[extreme/ excess/ reticuli]
The dilapidated hearbeat of a dying machine--rhythmic static that teeters off into one direction, then another. Gargled noise that degrades into harsh drones. Incessant.
A sputtering machine on its back; a dying construct that can't act.
The Tin Man is vomiting...
Your muscles are seized in fire; each fibrous strand is inflamed, unmovable and screaming in electrical protest along your neural pathways. Your brain is a desert storm taking form, adjusting to the machinegun fire of neurons pummeling it from all directions. Your teeth are clenched; you have...
Be wary, young viper; even creatures that slither in tall grass make a sound. Think not that you are silent.
Hide as you may, everyone suspects the viper.
I know more
than you want
me to.
"You're here to take me away, aren't you?"
"No. Just watch."
Dust, suspended by innumerable forces of reality, saturated the air, only visible in elongated, dirty shafts of light. Like ever the slightest brushes of breath over thick soup, it swirled like lazy, inviting innocence. All else...
Rereading is cool.
I was reading past pieces in the Literature Department's Flash Fiction Thread, and I came across one of my older pieces, based on one of three songs. [Yes, I won; that's not why I'm posting it]. I'm posting it because, on those rare occasions, in fits of brilliance or...
distance is distance is distance is distance
Careful.
This is an ethereal, violent sea of vivacious subtext; above, We walk a rickety latticework of excuses, promises and smiles. One misstep, and your in an ocean of it; one fall, and the whole rotten mess will crumble into that ocean...
---
The rest of the pictures. Hopefully there will be more, especially of the outside; but, light permitting we'll have to wait until at least tomorrow.
Something new.
we cant keep ourselves still
our minds are so far away, from here.
as we dig our toes in the sand, and our bodies touch the...
---
The new place; not quite moved in (as you can tell by our state of the art moving units--aka trash bag) but we're getting there. There are, like, a dozen fans in the house, and the yard looks like a jungle, but it's a nice little place.
[continued in the next post...]
yu8hiX3BjYo
I just like the song.
It's at the point of redefining reality.
I really don't know what to do.
But, I'm trying.
Please know this.
it wants out.
I wish, I wish, make it a technicolor dream; make everything work out. The tightness in my throat is unbearable. Please stop.
i feel it in my stomach.
If only, if only, these feelings picking at my mind; all these factors have added to make it what it is. My eyes burn.
its...
Through all the smashing and crashing cars
I love the ground you walk with all my heart.
Everything relates to the foreboding; quiet dissonance that becomes a mass of static in your chest, grinding you from the inside. It's in your spine; you can feel it shiver. You'll cough on and sputter, the...
The stars are falling.
Those balls of light are burning holes in the sky, through the stratosphere, through the clouds and into the people. Streaking and screaming through their home. Thin, burning white lines connecting the people to the heavens for their own reasons.
They chose this.
The...
My fingers have suffered a disconnect from my mind; everything has stopped. They tense, but do not release.
My chest hurts.
I don't know.
Everything has become so quiet, but remains violent. The world dissolves into a cacophony of line--distance, beginning, ending, containing, defining...