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.....