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.....