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.....