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.....