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.....