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.....