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.....