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.....