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.....