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.....