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.....