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.....