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.....