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.....