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.....