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.....