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.....