An epiphany, common and plain

You tell me a blast of light bathed you
And you were saved.
Salvation, baby, salvation.
Salvation.
You salivate as if you’re bathing me in something novel and unique.
Alas.
All light blasts.
From your bathroom bulbs to your annoying book light shifting every time you turn the page or adjust your weight to find the cool spot in our unmarried king-sized bed, ah, just imagine the sin.
Blasting faster than your dreams conceive in their darkest of deep dark dreams.
Bathing all of us baby.
Baby.
So next time try to tone down your enlightened enthusiasm and bring me something I can use, man.
Man.

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