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.....