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.....