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.....