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.....