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.....