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.....