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.....