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.....