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.....