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.....