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.....