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.....