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.....