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.....