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.....