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.....