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.....