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.....