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.....