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.....