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.....