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.....