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.....