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.....