The brightest bulb for hours

Now the brightest bulb has flowered it’s downhill all the way to the mountain peaks,the cataract and the cliff hangar
He is not the toast of happenstance. He’s a control freak and a manic depressor par strict and tense.
She is not the sharpest wife as yet but she can cut a man in half with a sentence,nay even one word… I keep it  secret.It is secret.
Lily is not the happiest sheep in the flock but soon her ram will come.
Nothing impersonal is alien to her.
Foam for the Foe,we say.
He needs nothing to freeze her cat except a thermometer.
I have nothing to write a poem about so I need therapy to give me a Lear or two.
I developed a neurotic transference because I could not spell erotic at that time.Anyway,psychotic,erotic,pneumatic, what’s the inference?
It’s all Greek to me but maybe you can transmute it into my head
He has nothing up my sleeve,mother.
Nothing censored is worth writing to Rome about
Now we never err but we never care either.It’s all  one schizoid  world
Splintered  personally into a million diamonds,worth a fortune but good for nothing.
Freud liked his eggs re-baked.Not re-laid.
Freud lost his libido in his forties.We  believe he was unconscious mostly,
Say whatever comes into your head everyday and you will soon be unpopular as well as neurotic.Unless it’s erotic.
Our dearest wish is to die,Freud averred.Unfortunately they won’t let us.
We require no stimuli at all.Peace is all we need.Not love.