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.....