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.....