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.....