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.....