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.....