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.....