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.....