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.....