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.....