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.....