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.....