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.....