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.....