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.....