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.....