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.....