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.....