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.....