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.....