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.....