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.....