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.....