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.....