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.....