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.....