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.....