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.....