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.....