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.....