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.....