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.....