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.....