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.....