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.....