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.....