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.....