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.....