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.....