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.....