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.....