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.....