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.....