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.....