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.....