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.....