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.....