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.....