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.....