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.....