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.....