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.....