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.....