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.....