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.....