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.....