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.....