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.....