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.....