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.....