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.....