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.....