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.....