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.....