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.....