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.....