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.....