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.....