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.....