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.....