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.....