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.....