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.....