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.....