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.....