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.....