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.....