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.....