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.....