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.....