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.....