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.....