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.....