THE  SPIRE             
  
  ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A     
  BENEVOLENT SPIRE, TOWERING WELL   
  ABOVE OUR TALLEST TREES. IT  WAS  
  CLAD IN WHITE SCALES, AND SHAPED  
        LIKED  A   MUSHROOM.        
       WE  LOVED  IT  DEARLY.       
  
  IT PREDATED US  BY  MANY YEARS,   
  AND WE DID NOT KNOW ITS ORIGINAL  
   BUILDERS.  THEY HAD  USED  ITS   
  HOLLOW  BODY  FOR  MANY  STRANGE  
  PURPOSES -  A WOMBLIKE  PLACE OF  
   GESTATION, A STORAGE OF  STRAGE  
  FLUIDS, A TEMPLE TO SOME KIND OF  
     ARCANE    DEITY.               
  
   WE   WERE   GRATEFUL  FOR  ITS   
  PRESENCE,  AND HONORED  IT  THE   
   ONLY  WAY  WE  KNEW  HOW:  BY    
        BREAKING        IN.         
  
                                          
                                          
  
  THIS PLACE WE  CALLED OUR CITY:   
  WAVY  AND FRACTURED, WITH  EACH   
  COURTYARD ON A DIFFERENT HEIGHT,  
   ROADS BECOMING ROOFS  BECOMING   
   DRAINS.  AND SOME PLACES,  LIKE  
   THE SPIRE,  NOBODY HAD ACCESSED  
  FOR MANY  YEARS. ONCE  ITS WALLS  
   ARE  JUST  TOO  HIGH,  AND THE   
  INTERNAL ROUTES TO LABYRINTHINE,  
  A  PLACE  AMONG OTHERS IS EASILY  
             OVERLOOKED.            
  
  SO,  BASICALLY, THAT  SUMMER THE  
  FOUR OF US SNUCK AND CLIMBED AND  
  CRAWLED FOR WEEKS, SEARCHING FOR  
  A SECLUDED PLACE TO DO DRUGS AND  
  PLAY MUSIC  ON  OUR  HANDHELDS.   
   INSTEAD WE  FOUND  VAST  LUNGS   
   DRAINED  OF   THEIR  CATALYST    
  SLUDGE,  AND A BIRDS-EYE VIEW TO  
   MAKE SENSE OF OUR  ROAMINGS FOR  
          YEARS  TO   COME.         
  
   A  CENTRAL SPINE,  A STAIRCASE   
   AROUND  IT, THE SEVEN TOROIDAL   
  LUNGS STACKED  OUTSIDE,  AND THE  
  CONTROL ROOM ON TOP. THE SOCKETS  
  FOR ITS EYES. THE SMALLER SPIRES  
   FOR  RADIATING   CONSCIOUSNESS   
            INVITATIONS.            
  
                                          
  
  IN TWENTY FOURTEEN, THE TOWER IS  
  TOPPLED  AND  EATEN BY MACHINES.  
  AFTER A  WHILE, SOMETHING NEW IS  
  CONJURED IN  ITS  PLACE.  IT'S A  
  TINY MAW AT  FIRST, SHORTER THAN  
   US,  AND  WE  LET IT  BE.  OUR   
  JOURNEYS STILL  END AT ITS FEET.  
  
  BUT THEN  WE  ARE BETRAYED. THE   
  NEW TOWER  EATS US.  OTHERS ARE   
  SUCKED INSIDE. NEW BUILDINGS ARE  
  MANIFESTED  OVERNIGHT, ONLY  TO   
  DISAPPEAR  IN THE EVENING  FOG.   
   FOR A WHILE  ITS SOME KIND  OF   
  TIMESHARE SCAM. GOONS ARE PLACED  
  OUTSIDE, AND  WE GET BEATEN UP A  
   FEW  TIMES,  AND  STOP  GOING.   
  
   IIRC  IT'S  CURRENTLY OWNED BY   
  SOME ENERGY DRINK BARON WHO USES  
  IT TO HOLD ALL HIS FOURTY EIGHT   
             CARS.....