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.....