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.....