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.....