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.....