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.....