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.....