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.....