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.....