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.....