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.....