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.....