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.....