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.....