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.....