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.....