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.....