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.....