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.....