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.....