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.....