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.....