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.....