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.....