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.....