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.....