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.....