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.....