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.....