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.....