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.....