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.....