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.....