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.....