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.....