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.....