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.....