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.....