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.....