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.....