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.....