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.....