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.....