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.....