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.....