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.....