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.....