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.....