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.....