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.....