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.....