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.....