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.....