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.....