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.....