ANN TOMPERTIf obsession can have a number surely it can have a face, a name...a place even. This face evades me. This name is not easily obtained....thus it gains much more strength and fortitude.
Surely you can relate, right? I mean dreams lead to glory and immortality. Surely most dreams, the good ones at least, have coals burning bright within them named obsession.
My oceans tell me nothing of this women, and even the brightness of the stars above the waves I call upon for my epic sing little of the greatness of this women's words. Her Words lie all around me blow in my ear, as a leaf or a fish.
Yet the Source, the Mother-box, the mouth, is merely a shadow...a single image left like some illusion.
As surely as I live I demend contact, or at least knowledge of this Mouth be spilled onto my ocean...for as quickly as I atttempt it, it is gone. Like Oil her image does not mix, and these enviromentalistic Nazi supermen quickly subdue and quell my spills.
Words leave me now, I am no detective and the only ocean i know is my own. I must look beyond the Vale to see the Source, All of Kirby's Worlds shall not stop this. The Apokolips shall turn and spin, flame and lash out, but shall not turn my path
Obsession marks this epic now....and beyond the world of me.n shall i venture. Krom I curse you for passion sake