Poetess III : Merciless

Nothing but the dark room stared at me
And in that comfort, my spirit went somewhere
In that damned civilization, where you live
With imagination, without realms of past.
Crosslinked, immobile , chained
Encumbered to the infinite imageries
Tangled to Victorian decadence
Wrapped in the surge of poetry
And when it arrives to you
formless, on forgotten eves
You would write to me -
Unabated, fracturing the night
And my shapeless ego would crumble
Perished in that merciless infinity.