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.....