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.....