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.....