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.....