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.....