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.....