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.....