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.....