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.....