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.....