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.....