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.....