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.....