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.....