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.....