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.....