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.....