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.....