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.....