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.....