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.....