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.....