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.....