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.....