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.....