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.....