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.....