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.....