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.....