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.....