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.....