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.....