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.....