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.....