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.....