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.....