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.....