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.....