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.....