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.....