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.....