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.....