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.....