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.....