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.....