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.....