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.....