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.....