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.....