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.....