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.....