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.....