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.....