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.....