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.....