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.....