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.....