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.....