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.....