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.....