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.....