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.....