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.....