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.....