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.....