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.....