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.....