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.....