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.....