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.....