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.....