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.....