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.....