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.....