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.....