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.....