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.....