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.....