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.....