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.....