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.....