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.....