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.....