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.....