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.....