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.....