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.....