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.....