RolePlayGateway?

Criticism is welcome. It's hard to be objective about one's own work.

Purgatory
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I lean on glass, to fall right through.
Hours and days gone, and in my mind,
I plan to flee, leaving behind
My ectoplasmic residue.

Lightbulbs hidden in the ceiling,
Controlled by faders for my use,
Why I'd need to, I can't deduce.
Since sound's my sole useful feeling.

I can hear it, if someone screams,
Or when one smokes three times a day.
Three times, too, I eat pills and tray,
No one tells me what all this means.

Purgatory, a place on Earth.
Built of rooms for rumination,
And some tacky decoration.
Broke brain, boxed in. What am I worth?

Here they process ghosts and corpses,
Medicate many minds unclean.
When lacking reason, you're not seen,
Save when cloistered, by trained nurses.

Here I stand, pressed to frigid wall,
Believing I have joined the dead,
Contrary proof not in my head.
I'm locked out from Heavenly hall.

Source: http://feeds.feedburner.com/RolePlayGateway

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