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.....