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.....