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.....