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.....