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.....