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.....