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.....