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.....