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.....