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.....