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.....