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.....