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.....