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.....