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.....