Sporadic Nature

I'm sick of the sporadic
Nature of your touch
I don't mean to be dramatic
But it's just too much

My consciousness it streams
In the rockbed of my dreams
My heart it quakes
At the paces of the faces as they turn to steam

And that seagull screech
Is a pale, pale white beach
Called jealousy and shame
And the pain, it's the same, what's my name?
When you're in or out of reach

And please don't put your head on my shoulder now
'Cause the moment it leaves, my shoulder it grieves
'Til it gets you back somehow

My poetry it lies
Like my hand on your thigh
My brain is soothed
As it muses and confuses all that it's surmised

And you just can't teach
Tap dancing to a peach
It'll fall on the ground
With a thudding sound, I look around, wholly confounded
Whether you're in or out of reach

And please don't put your face in my suitcase now
When I go on a trip I just don't need that shit
'Til I get back to town

I'm sick of the sporadic
Nature of your touch
I don't mean to be dramatic
But it's just too much