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.....