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.....