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.....