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.....