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.....