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.....