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.....