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.....