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.....