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.....