Gone in a dream

I lift my hand, to check if its there,
I need to stop, I need all my worries to drown but as long as it's there they will keep on flooding my head,

I hold it steadfastly as its jagged edges find ways to gash open my hot sweaty palm,
I watch as deep vermillion splotches of blood dribble down my palm I stare at its rusted flaky gold paint stained onto my hand,

The diamonds cut so punctiliously, enough lustre to blind the eye as long as I hold it I may as well die, it's eerie gold paint, now
a speckled brown, fills up all space in my heart, I wait watching until the end of my life, but it's gone gone in a dream