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.....