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.....