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.....