Scorn Disdain and Other Guilty Pleasures

Scorn, disdain and other guilty pleasures

  Copyright 2013 Mauricio Buitrago

  Preface

  I had to look for inspiration for a long time before actually starting to work on these tales. Sometimes my own experience, sometimes that of others, but all in all, every single piece was indeed inspired by the words and deeds of those like us: people who live, suffer, rejoice and keep walking down the mysterious paths of life. I merely wrapped those with carefully chosen words, as to please whoever decides to take a minute to enjoy a short tale.

  My gratitude goes to all those who helped me in this endeavor, friends and family alike and from them specially to Alexandra, Laura, Sylvia, Diego and many others who gave me their constant feedback and support. Without it, this short compilation of my works would not have been possible.

  And, of course, thank you, dear reader, who brings new life to the words I share here. Please, enjoy.

  Maunder

  It may never be like it once was. Frail, subtle, but so charming, like your smile. The days were just blades of grass the wind blew; I forgot what love felt like and shattered the dreams that laid in your heart. My eyes could never see the broken shards, but you still smiled and I thought there was no way for us to be apart. A seed in a barren land. We never held hands, we never felt our warmth; it was all cold under the fire that your eyes feigned for my heart. A vain hope that I held high until I raised my sight and saw nothing but my empty hands.

  It will never be like it once was. Rain washed away the pieces, took away what I thought was mine to cherish and mine alone to hold in my arms. My vacant stare could not find you in the song of a bleeding sky, could not see the trail of the sadness I was sure our torn feelings would left behind. I forgot everything but your smile; I was left a jaded husk with nothing but an image of a time that would never be mine. Unsure, I walked, I fell, I kept trying to find a way back. No road to follow, no grave to give up this life.

  I no longer remember what it once was like. No difference existed between sun and snow for my weary eyes. The wandering souls mocked my pathetic tries to find an excuse to live for, a reason to die for; the never ending need to feel the icy grasp of a feeling that I would once again outlast. And there, over the chasm, hating the love and loving to hate this life, I saw a familiar smile. One I tore with a selfish desire. A light I prayed for, a blinding sight that double crossed my heart.

  I no longer remember anything at all. All is gone, washed away by the stream that takes me far away from your life. Pain subsides as the horizon disappears, as the rain takes away my tears. So far away, in a place that knows nothing from the past I cannot even feel whether is mine to remember or mine to despise. Hidden from the shadows, safe from the sight of a reflection that haunts the dreams I can barely keep alive, I wait for the time when you see through my eyes and discover a heart that no longer beats for your smile, a heart that no longer beats for anyone alive.

  Theory in sin

  Still here, little one? Haven't you learned the lessons my pen has taught you thus far? Indeed little one, my words have turned blunt as they have always been sharp. You know the condition, memorize every letter of my ramble and rant and I'll let you inside the castle of blackened illusion that we've built for you all. Come in, come in, there is the champagne. Smile and wave to the crowd for those are the ghosts that in silence adore your foolish attempts to follow my lore. Still lost in the maze that I made with those words? Worry not, little one, there's nothing wrong with you or your mind. It's just that it's useless and we have no room for such waste of time. Give me gold, give me the signs that I'll die drowned in your sorrow and the laugh of your kind. “Lovely, lovely”, will be the words of the blind, no one will care if it is blue, black or white. You can spit, bleed and cut your insides; everyone will applaud at your pain and say it was something truly unique in its kind. Disgorge all the sacred, spread filth on the holiest signs, many cheers will come from the dark and thousand others will talk about the meaning of your cryptic remarks. Understanding is a mere trifle for those who dare to defy the wisdom of our clan; no one shall ever try to find something beyond what we say is to be found.

  We've created a masterpiece out of your dull ideas, wonders out of what we ruled was not made to shine. You're a tool of the theories we've lovely spun to tie the hands of your mind, so the only belief you can hold is that your labor has no meaning at all. Come deeper into the labyrinth of secrets, become a slave to things you can't understand. Just pretend you are a master of our chant and let us turn your petty ideals into scrap metal to satisfy our desires. The voices will call you to follow our path and soon many others will become puppets to keep the masses praying for more of our lies. Inspiration has no place in this waltz, breaking the model is forbidden if you are to be another smiling cadaver in the limelight. Unveil your falsehood, reveal the deception, let them rejoice in the corruption of your void workings, for behind them is nothing but greed and lust for the foulest wine. Sell your soul, sell it for fame, fortune, eternity in the eyes of those who will never realize this has been the most blatant sham.

  Are these words engraved in your mind? Without them you will be forgotten and left behind, for true creation is to be scorned no matter how beautifully put together. Even if you are to tell our sheep how to free their minds, their eyes are closed to your colorless talk. And you ask why? Just because we say you are nothing but rabble, trash, the ones to be looked down upon by mankind. We are the force behind the waves of meaningless designs, the violence that pushes the idiotic to admire the pupils of our shiny charms.

  The blind guiding the blind and leading you all into the chasm. The putrid wisdom that makes you believe that your work is only to be admired and not to be seen with the eye of the mind. We are the cult of the void, the bigots of the inane, the slaves of caprice and hollow desire. We, and not those truly inspired, are the ones that define what you are, what you do, how you live, how you lie.

  A new definition of death in every dime; a new definition of misery in every word, every color, every statue of your own demise; a new meaning under the beliefs left behind, a new crippled reason to sell your deception as the true light. We told you, as it was written by our hand, that this absence of sense is what we really call art.

  Despisal is not for free

  Trails of a shadow that was left under my skin; I cannot believe you've been my greatest sin. Kisses in the darkness of a blackened heart, treacherous passions disguised as scorn, but nothing has changed, nothing was torn. My soul weeps for the nothingness, cries for the void. Did a life cling to this hell before? A sudden glimpse, the violence untold, the truth of a sword tearing the image I left behind as my laughter filled your world. A broken mirror of lies, a thousand pieces of perfect contempt; words stumble, fall, become nothing but figments of precious vindication. Bloodshot eyes, open as the sky showers the sinner with needles, the victim with fire and the love with chaos. Possession, such a tribulation for the mind, such a pleasure for the body, such a ravaging battle for the soul. Not another tear for you, not another drop of blood for the unrequited oath, no more shall faith be wasted in building palaces with the bones of dead dreams. Feed the flames, fuel the hatred, let the barren reminiscence burn and become a ghost in the embrace of lust. Despair cuts open the empty skies, agony feeds the earth its seed and a smile is all we need to reap the fruits of such an exquisite feud. Savoring the lash of hate has never been sweeter; tasting your delicious belligerence is a pleasure only the most depraved souls can indulge in. A breeze of dull razors, the winds of destruction blown with a goodnight kiss. The sharpest blade in the heart of a revenant, the twisted grin of a man drowned in sin.

  Look b
ehind you, my dear.

  I am not gone.

  Reality in a thousand mirrors

  "And my eyes were not cold; they were just waiting for you"

  The fire inside my soul was still lit after all, but it slowly died away as there was nothing to consume but my mind. I had fought for what I thought was right, but the war ended long ago and I was just battling the ghost that remained within my scars. As the world went round and round I kept my eyes in the horizon waiting for a new night to be free and claim what I thought was mine, but the midnight sun never ceased to shine. And there I was, trapped in a maze built out of rejection and wasted moons to a cause I had lost before it even began.

  I left