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.....