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.....