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.....