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.....