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.....