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.....