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.....