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.....