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.....