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.....