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.....