Follow Me, Sandman's Guilt

An afternoon that slings rocks and arrows alight as the sun, cast behind the fire-eater’s enchantress. They only taste pain during chocolate evenings, the minds of yore sizzling away on the frying pan of hella tuff desire. I’d walk for days without a morsel if you were to stay always by my side, yet not even magic nor a Force on Earth could keep you within such forlorn deserts. Like raindrops slowing, floating, dancing and destined, hydroplaning into gloaming hearts, I’d like an order of time topped with illusion, please. Tea thyme, surely! swirling beside rhyme, that liquor’s become mind.