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.....