[ WP ] A new drug let 's you live a lifetime in one dream

If it comes to me, I'll write a story response as well but this is a slam poem written with this kind of prompt in mind. Hope you enjoy; I want to get into /r/WritingPrompts more; criticism appreciated. 
 
 EDIT: Changed the ending's imagery just a slight bit. 
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 Gold has been revered as a precious commodity since before recorded history. 
 Mansa Musa distributed so much gold to the poor on his pilgrimage to Mecca 
 that the entire Mediterranean suffered from a massive 
 depression for the entirety of the following decade. 
 
 Three hundred-thousand gold-greedy men and women converged upon California from all over the world; 
 in the first five years of the Gold Rush, three hundred and seventy tons of 
 gold were excavated from the Sierra Nevadas. 
 Before they could all reach paradise, though, some died miserable deaths 
 drowning in shipwrecks, 
 boiling alive with typhoid fever, 
 vomiting their life out from cholera. 
 
 I compare myself to a Californian gold miner of the late forties. 
 
 I go to sleep every night an expectant miner. 
 
 The rush to stake a claim deep within the mysteries of my dreams 
 overpowers my better judgement, my life ’ s current complacency and safety, 
 all so boring. 
 
 I get one taste and I rush to dig deeper, stay longer; 
 fools ’ gold still gives you that same rush when you first find it. 
 
 Every night, I select a song that ferries me towards my claim; it takes me downriver, but the river ’ s not as crystal-clear as it was 
 when I first began. 
 
 I go to sleep every night an expectant miner. 
 
 When I arrive at the mountains of my dreams, the horizon fills with the 
 deafening explosions of dynamite and monotonous clanking of 
 pickaxes that mark a thrilling uncertainty at the 
 prospect of discovery. 
 
 Is tonight the night that I find gold? 
 Will I find a small, gleaming nugget; will I rub it between 
 my silt-covered fingers; will white teeth gleam against a soot-blackened face as 
 I savor a moment of pure ecstasy? 
 
 Or will I find enough gold to ruin the economy of my own body ’ s Mediterranean, will it wash the beach of my consciousness a faint gold as it 
 flows in and out, leaving the imprint of dreams forever lost; 
 the waves stain deep, a tag reads “ dry-clean only ”. 
 
 I go to sleep every night an expectant miner. 
 
 Sometimes when I wake up, I ca n't dam back the tears; they wash over the tangible as I lament the most recent cave-in; 
 that dream ’ s lost forever, I ’ d best cut my losses and find another claim, but 
 how can I move on when sleep with her is more real than 
 any waking moment? 
 
 How can I leave any of it behind when in the rubble sleeps the 
 only incentive for me to finish the day? 
 
 She ’ s only available for those scarce six hours, if that; 
 sometimes my hands bleed as I scramble to uncover her at night, 
 free her from the prison my alarm clock traps her in every morning. 
 
 I go to sleep every night an expectant miner. 
 Tonight the river ride ’ s full of thick, dark-red silt. I squelch through slowly, worriedly, but when I arrive, the pile ’ s still there. 
 
 With a deep sigh of relief, I heave away the first rock and the rest crumbles away, I know the routine and yet 
 I wait with bated breath as the dust clears from before me. 
 As it settles, there she stands, perfectly flawed; 
 that small scar still rests upon her delicate face, those beautiful emerald-green eyes pull me closer. 
 
 Unharmed, she beckons me forward and I breathe her in as she washes over me; she ’ s just as I remember. 
 
 “ You won ’ t have to leave me ever again ”, she tells me. 
 
 I smile, because I believe her.
