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.....