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.....