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.....