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.....