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.....