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.....