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.....