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.....