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.....