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.....