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.....