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.....