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.....