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.....