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.....