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.....