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.....