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.....