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.....