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.....