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.....