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.....