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.....