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.....